


Street Education

by molmcmahon



Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [10]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24050539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/molmcmahon/pseuds/molmcmahon
Summary: Jacob Frye meets the owner of a London orphanage and is charmed.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Harry Potter
Series: Harry Potter in Assassin's Creed [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550224
Comments: 5
Kudos: 272





	Street Education

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own either HP or Assassin's Creed.

“Get ‘em to the Marauder’s Den,” Clara had said, pointing north at the time. “After you free ‘em. Harry’ll take care of them.”

Jacob stared up at the small square building that did not stand out at all, in one of the boroughs of London. He and Evie had yet to liberate this one but there were no Blighters standing around at any of the corners or any that he had seen even remotely near this street. Whitechapel was theirs and so was Lambeth but Southwark was not, was absolutely lined with Blighters in their red uniforms.

And yet… Not a Blighter in sight.

He urged his horse on with a few quiet words under the night sky, hearing the three children in the carriage giggle as they drove over a hole in the cobblestone road. Two girls and one boy. He had freed them from the last factory just an hour ago and they had told him that their parents were dead. Blunt and to the point. 

Most children he encountered at the factories didn’t have parents. Or if they did, they didn’t care about where their children were or they had sold them to Starrick in return for money.

He clenched his fingers around the reins and directed the horse over to the sidewalk as he looked up at the small orphanage. Jacob had trusted Clara’s words when she had first walked up to them, cleverness and secrets in her eyes, and told them where to deliver the kids they freed.

A carriage of Rooks was right behind them, a driver and a shotgun sitting in the long bench, watching closely for any sign of red clothing. Jacob signaled to them to keep watch before pulling on the reins gently, the mare whinnying low before falling back to a trot and then a walk.

When the carriage came to a stop, Jacob glanced up at the building, a big stone thing that had no indication whatsoever that it was an orphanage. No signage, no nothing. There was a small stable right next to it, two or three stalls with horses in them and a small carriage in one of the farther stalls. He made sure his hidden blade was set and focused on the building, narrowing his eyes a little bit to draw on his special vision. Eagle vision the other Assassin’s called it. Or at least that’s what Evie had called it. 

It didn’t glow any color but Jacob wasn’t surprised. Only people glowed faintly with his extra senses. He stepped down from the carriage seat and opened the door, helping out the girls and boy. They laughed excitedly and almost immediately ran to the door, pounding on it quickly in a series of knocks. 

Jacob grinned a little as he realized that it might have been a series of secret knocks. 

A man opened the door and peered down at the children, his bright green eyes narrowed. Jacob watched as the man frowned and then stepped aside, waving the children inside. He heard the racing footsteps as the children ran deeper into the home and squinted a little at the sight that he could see.

The orphanage looked like it was… bigger on the inside? Jacob shook his head at the sight and met the man’s eyes as he stepped back to his carriage. The man had messy black hair that fell to his shoulders, green eyes and a scar on his forehead, shaped like a thunder bolt, the forked skin branching downwards like lightning. 

“You’d be one of the Frye twins?”

The man’s English accent was a little different than what Jacob was used to hearing, a little more wild.

“Aye, that would be me. Jacob Frye. You Harry?”

“Yeah. Word travels fast between children these days. Would you like to come in for a drink? You’ve got blood on your coat.”

“‘S not mine,” Jacob said, crossing his arms and meeting the man’s eyes. The man looked to be around the same age as Jacob, perhaps in his early twenties. 

“Ah. Suppose you’ve got better things to be doing at night then,” Harry offered, leaning against the doorway as he looked Jacob over. Something about the man’s gaze made Jacob shiver slightly, as if there was something hiding behind Harry’s eyes. 

“Better? Bloodier, definitely.”

Harry snorted and gestured inside. “I would say that I would mind my own business but that’s not what I did for my own childhood.”

Jacob laughed. “Could use a drink if you’ve got one.”

“I do. It’s out of the reach of the children but yeah. Come on in. Mind where you step. There are toys around.”

Harry stepped aside and Jacob walked up the porch and into the building, his eyes widening as he truly got a glimpse of what lay inside. The door closed behind him and Harry led the way deeper into the building.

“Most of the children are asleep now or I wouldn’t have offered,” Harry remarked, as Jacob’s eyes continued to widen. 

He drew on his extra senses and stared around him, catching the golden glow that shimmered around Harry’s form. The children glowed green in his vision as he looked up at the… three floors above him. When viewed from outside, the building only had two stories.

“What… How did…”

Harry laughed quietly and turned right, stepping through a doorway and disappeared. He poked his head out a second later, a wide grin on his lips, and stared right at Jacob. “Magic.”

Jacob blinked, tracing his hidden blade within its bracer. “Magic ain’t real.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve heard crazy stories from Charles Dickens and my sister but…”

Harry smiled a little and gestured through the doorway behind him. “Come on. I’ve a feeling that you don’t drink tea.”

“You’d be right.”

Jacob continued to stare momentarily and then caught up to the strange man and owner of the orphanage. The Marauder’s Den. 

“You’re the ones who reformed the Clinkers into the Rooks.”

The doorway led right into a big kitchen, filled with all manner of strange devices. 

“Yeah, that’s me and my sister, Evie. The Blighters have been far too comfortable in my opinion.”

Harry grinned as he jerked a thumb at the little table in the nook to the far end of the kitchen. It was surrounded by walls that had floor to ceiling windows, letting the occupants look out into the large garden that lay behind the building. 

“The Blighters know to stay away from here, that’s for sure.”

“We… have an arrangement,” Harry explained, as he stood up on a chair to grab drinks out of a cabinet. “They stay out of my business and I don’t blow up one of their bases.”

Jacob snorted as he looked the man over. “Man after my own heart.”

Harry met his grin with one of his own. “Soo… do I get to know what that symbol on your bracer means?”

“It’s… secret,” Jacob replied, smirking at the man. “You’ve got a few of your own.”

“Why, Mr Frye, whatever do you mean? I told you the biggest one already.”

“You said magic. Don’t know what that means,” Jacob retorted, smiling, unsure about this man.

Harry drew out mugs and filled them before handing one over. Jacob took it and sniffed at the liquid within.

“It’s not poison if that’s what you’re worried about. I just met you of course.”

Jacob took a sip and breathed deeply. “I like blowing things up too.”

“I would imagine you do. Clara told you about me?”

“Aye. She did.”

“She’s a good girl,” Harry said, shrugging in thought. “Directs children to me if they need extra help. I imagine they’ve become your agents too?”

Jacob’s eyes widened a little and then shrugged, loosening his shoulders. “I’m right protective over young folk.”

“So am I.”

  
  


* * *

Harry heard the shouts and yells before he saw the commotion a few months later. The night sky rose above him and the moon had rode through the sky, stopping halfway on its circle. He pulled his horse to a stop, tethered it to a hitching post, hid it with one or two words, and followed the sounds of flesh hitting flesh. 

Lights lit up a fight club. People booed and cheered for their chosen fighter amidst a dark corner of London. Light droplets of rain fell from the sky as Harry pushed his way through the crowd, stopping at the edge of the fight circle. A big, rough circle was barricaded and three, four, five men were fighting in the middle of it. Only… It seemed like four of them were fighting on the same… side, against… Harry sucked in a tight breath as warmth gathered in him at the sight of Jacob Frye fighting like he was born to it.

Jacob was shirtless and sweaty, glistening with drops of rain and sweat both. His short black hair was pressed to his scalp by the rain and his knuckles were wrapped in cloth. And he was beautiful. He landed blows easily, dodged out of the way of a brute and  _ danced _ , leaping up and kicking out at two other men. 

Jacob’s fighting was also dirty, kicking out at jaws and knocking men’s heads together, elbowing men behind him with deadly force. And he was just using his body. There were no weapons allowed. This was a man who knew how to use his body to fight and fight well.

Harry swallowed at the sight, his mouth suddenly dry. 

The announcer called the fight over when Jacob knocked three men out, one after another. Their unconscious bodies fell to the cobblestone street underneath them and Jacob stood there, the uncontested winner. 

Jacob turned his way and found his eyes very easily. Harry stared back into the man’s dark eyes, seeing the predator within. He supposed Jacob had been the cause of the deaths around the city within the last few months, the death of Pearl Attaway, and the shutdown of Starrick’s Soothing Syrup factory.

It was a far cry from the Jacob who had appeared at his doorstep months ago, escorting children to the orphanage. That Jacob had been quiet and questioning, maybe a little awestricken, a little playful, but nothing like this. 

Jacob smirked at him and then turned back to the fight crowd.

* * *

“Sir! Sir! Harry!”

He raced to the door and opened it, letting in the group of three children. Phillip, Saoirse and Brandon ran inside, breathing heavily. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry questioned, looking them over for injuries of any sort. 

“Fire over at the Alhambra theatre! Mr Frye’s there and you wanted…”

Harry frowned and tugged on his cloak, giving each child a few coins. Phillip lived here but the other two didn’t. “Thanks. I just made scones if you want them. They’re at the kitchen table.”

“What kind?” Brandon asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Cause the last weren’t chocolate.”

Harry snorted and gestured back into the kitchen. “Berries are good for you.”

“No, they ain’t.”

“Yes, they are,” Harry called back, already halfway out the door. “Don’t take more than one for each of you!”

“Too late!”

Harry snorted and ran out, pondering what transportation he wanted and deciding on his broomstick. It was dark out again and Harry idly wondered what it meant that most of his encounters with Jacob were at night. He shrugged the thought off, glanced up at the night sky, and pulled out his Firebolt. Cloaked himself with another word and rode up into the chill night air, heading right to where he could see pillars of smoke drifting up.

He sped towards the Strand, the borough where Maxwell Roth had made his home, and made it to the theatre, glancing down to the streets below him. The fire carriages had just begun to charge towards the fire and the building itself was on fire, little explosions firing away inside. Harry’s heart raced as he hovered over the street, in front of the theatre, looking for Jacob and hoping he made it out in time. 

Harry lowered his broom and landed in the middle of the street right as he saw a hooded man jump out of the building. 

Jacob Fyre swayed as he stood up, little sparks of fire hopping onto his cloak as he stared at the theatre. Blood dripped from the set of brass knuckles Jacob wore on both hands and his face was pale, paler than Harry had ever seen. 

Harry noticed the moment Jacob’s knees buckled and raced towards the man, grateful that there were no Rooks around. He didn’t think Jacob would want members of his gang to see him like this as he caught him.

Jacob’s eyes were wide and lost as Harry slipped arms around him, easing them both to the ground. His hat was on the ground and Harry snatched it up, meeting Jacob’s eyes even as they rolled into the back of the man’s head. Jacob slumped into his arms, unconscious and shivering.

“What did you get yourself into now?” Harry whispered, before casting a feather light charm on the man and lifting him into his arms. He remounted his broomstick, settled Jacob in front of him, and flew back to his building. 

The top floor of his building had a secret entrance, one with a small balcony that wasn’t noticeable from the ground. Spelled so that he could take off on his broomstick without notice.

  
  


* * *

Jacob woke up abruptly and quickly, his heart pounding, to something hooked over his face. He reached up to the thing, to the mask and clawed at it frantically, thinking it was the mask he had worn to get into Maxwell’s theatre. A sound left his throat, torn from him without conscious thought. His throat was dry and worn and his lips were… bruised. Jacob flinched as he stared out at the room around him, not recognizing the place. A cough tore itself through his throat and he clawed at the mask more, his fingers finding the strange tubing that led from it to somewhere off the bed.

A hand on his fingers made him freeze and he looked up into Harry’s green eyes. “Jacob, leave it on. Please. It’s just giving you clean, fresh oxygen. I promise.”

Jacob stared up at the man, feeling the warmth coming from the man’s fingers. He opened his mouth to talk and Harry shook his head. 

“You’re safe. I promise,” Harry whispered, his fingers rubbing circles into Jacob’s skin. “We can talk later but you need rest.”

Jacob continued to stare up at the man from the bed he was on and pointed at the mask on his face.

Harry’s lips twitched into a small smile, his eyes softening. “Air. It’s making it easy for you to breathe. You were in that theatre, inhaling a shit ton of smoke for a few minutes. Keep it on for another few minutes.”

Jacob nodded slowly, his world dwindling to the points of contact with Harry, to where the other man’s fingers were tracing Jacob’s. He wanted to forget that his own lips were kiss bruised, to forget about Maxwell Roth and his attention. Wanted to forget that his heart had skipped a beat when Roth had kissed him, that warmth had enveloped him when Roth had given him those looks before they had broken up their partnership.

Wanted to forget feeling his blade sliding into Roth’s flesh. 

“Jacob.”

Fingers pushed his hair out of his face and Jacob sucked in a breath, feeling his chest ache and complain.

“You killed Roth, didn’t you?” Harry questioned quietly, meeting his eyes.

Jacob stayed silent and pulled his fingers out of Harry’s, digging them into the mattress underneath him instead.

“Alright. Get some rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Are you still in pain?”

Jacob pointed at his chest and Harry eyed him before placing a hand on him, gentle but with a hint of steel. He whispered a few words under his breath and then coolness radiated from where Harry’s fingers were and Jacob sighed in relief, closing his eyes, and hating himself for it.

  
  


* * *

The next time he woke up, there was no mask over his face and a cup of water was on the bedside table. Jacob’s own hat was next to the cup and he reached out for it, fingering the brim. Harry was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, flipping through a novel. A mug of steaming tea sat on a table next to the other man and Jacob rolled his eyes at the sight. Harry looked just like any English man, a book in his lap and tea with him, but the man had secrets. 

There was no evidence of the strange machine he had seen last night or of the mask and its strange tubing that had sat on his face.

He slowly sat up, his throat still dry and he could still feel Maxwell’s mouth on his. Jacob flinched and brought up his hand to rub at his mouth.

“You alright?”

Jacob peered over at Harry, meeting the man’s eyes. “I’m fine. Have the Rooks been…”

“There are four posted around the orphanage,” Harry offered, a smile lingering on his lips. “Jacob…”

“I kill people.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not going to scream and run away.”

“I’m an Assassin.”

“Assassin with a capital A?”

Jacob nodded before he turned away. 

“Was Roth an Assassin?”

“No. He was… something.”

His fingers dug into the material of his hat and then he looked up at Harry. The man put his book away and eyed him steadily.

“You’re not sick, you know.” Harry gestured to his own mouth. “You had… a relationship with Roth that went deeper than just allies, am I correct?”

Jacob stayed silent, glancing down to his fingers and seeing them tremble.

“In the future, men can love other men and women can love other women without fear of reprisal. It’s not a sickness or a disease or anything like that, Jacob. You’re not sick.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m… like there’s something wrong with me?”

“Jacob, there’s nothing wrong with you. Absolutely nothing. I like men and women both. There are words in the future, labels that people use. Bisexual is one. It means that there are some men who like both other men and women. There are women who like both men and other women.”

Jacob blinked and finally turned to look at Harry, who was looking at him with no judgement in his eyes.

“What do you mean… in the future?”

“That’s where I’m from.  _ There is nothing wrong with you, Jacob Frye. _ ”

Jacob shuddered and turned away, looking out through the floor to ceiling windows around them. The sun was rising over London and he could easily see the horizon over the smog of London, could see the clouds and the whole city.

“He kissed me right before I killed him.”

“And that…”

“It didn’t feel good. He… forced himself on me.”

“Ah. Well, that’s a whole other kettle of fish. You’re well within rights to feel violated.”

Jacob sighed and watched as the sun came up slowly but surely. “Another day.”

“Yeah.”

Harry stood up and walked over to lean against the floor to ceiling window, sparing him a glance. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“No one should have to experience that and for that I’m sorry.”

Sounds filtered up through the floor and Jacob smiled as they heard children laughing and yelling.

“Roth was about to kill children. That’s why I… I shouldn’t have encouraged him in the first place.”

Harry turned to look at him, his arms loose at his sides. “Actions have consequences?”

“That’s what Evie always says.”

“Jacob, you couldn’t have known.”

“I might have.”

“You’re making the city a better place,” Harry remarked, shrugging. 

“At what cost?”

Jacob sighed and swung his legs off the bed, easily taking in deep breaths when he remembered coughing violently last night as he ran out of the building.

“For what it’s worth, you can use my home as a hideout, if you wish. There’s a door on the ground floor that brings you up here. And Jacob…”

He turned to look at the other man, seeing his green eyes narrow in thought.

“What?”

“You were gorgeous in the fighting ring last month,” Harry offered quietly. “And you still are.”

Jacob felt his cheeks flush at the man’s words. Warmth gathered in his belly and he turned away, letting Harry take the lead in leading him out of the top floor apartment.

“Come back to me if you have any difficulty breathing,” Harry said, as he stopped on the doorway. “Your lungs should be all cleared up but be careful.”

Jacob nodded and ran off, his heart racing in his chest as Harry’s words flashed through his mind again.  _ There was absolutely nothing wrong with him. _ Roth had made him feel dirty about it, about the attraction they both felt towards each other. Harry though… There was nothing dirty about him.


End file.
